


some say we're sinners

by extasiswings



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Soft Eddie Diaz, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: “I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie blurts out, the dam breaking.  “I think—I think maybe I have been for...awhile.”For her part, Dr. Copeland doesn’t even blink.  “And how does that make you feel?”It’s on the tip of his tongue to sayI don’t know, to take the path of least resistance because nearly every bit of him is rebelling at the idea of talking about this, of saying it out loud.  But Eddie swallows back the instinct as he pauses for a moment, and then quietly says—“Terrified.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 60
Kudos: 576





	some say we're sinners

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is, but it demanded to be written, especially after that Eddie-centric S4 promo. 10/10 to canon for getting Buck in therapy, so now I'm 100% on the "get Eddie back in therapy" train because goodness knows the man needs it.

When Eddie’s a kid, he doesn’t like romances. Not because he thinks they’re girly or anything like that—although he’s sure that’s what his dad would prefer—but because, well—

“It’s stupid,” he insists one afternoon, with the confidence of any fourteen-year-old boy. “The whole thing depends on people not talking! It would be over in five minutes if either of them just said _hey, I like you_.”

Sohpia rolls her eyes. “It’s not that easy, Eddie,” she replies, the irritated yet unspoken _duh_ in her tone. “Sometimes it takes time to figure out how you feel. Or to figure out how to say it.”

“How hard can it be? It’s not like anyone else is in your head.” He shrugs. “I just don’t get why anyone would stop themselves from being happy.”

“Because you’re a teenage boy and you get a crush every five minutes on any pretty girl who smiles at you for half a second,” his sister argues. “When you’re older you’ll understand.”

“You’re not that much older than me! Besides, I’ll never be that dumb.”

Sophia snorts and kicks him out of her room, but he stands by it. He’s never going to be that stupid.

Of course, years and a failed marriage later, when he’s gun shy and wary with walls up as high as he can build them, hiding his true feelings even from himself? Then, he’s just glad that Sophia doesn’t seem to remember that conversation. Because he gets it.

Oh boy, does he get it.

* * *

“Eddie? Is there something you want to talk about?” Dr. Copeland asks from the other end of the screen. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Eddie scrubs his hands over his face. He likes the video sessions more than he had when he tried in-person with Frank, being able to be in his own space, but he feels like he’s back in his first one rather than four months in, struggling to make words come. 

“It’s about Buck,” he admits.

Dr. Copeland nods once. “You know that’s okay, right? I told you when we started this that it’s not uncommon for me to work with people who know each other—family, partners, colleagues—it’s okay for you to talk about him. Everything you say here is in confidence.”

“I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie blurts out, the dam breaking. “I think—I think maybe I have been for...awhile.”

He used to think it was a made up cliche, the idea of not realizing how you truly felt about someone until you were in too deep, until they had already burrowed in too far under your skin for you to get them out. And yet—

_”Do you believe in soulmates?” Buck asked one night._

_It was late—after midnight—and something about the hour, or perhaps just the pleasantly buzzed fog in Eddie’s head had his defenses down enough that a single thought whispered unbidden through his mind._

_I believe in you._

For her part, Dr. Copeland doesn’t even blink. “And how does that make you feel?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say _I don’t know_ , to take the path of least resistance because nearly every bit of him is rebelling at the idea of talking about this, of saying it out loud. But Eddie swallows back the instinct as he pauses for a moment, and then quietly says—

“Terrified.”

“Why?”

“Because—” It rips at his insides, touching the sore spot that he’s avoided for years out of self-preservation, the baggage that they’ve barely even started to unpack in these sessions because he pivots to a new subject almost every time they get close. “—because I can be his friend, but I’m not good at...anything else. Because I don’t want to lose him.”

“Has he done anything to make you think you would?” She asks, and Eddie opens his mouth. Closes it.

“When we talked about Shannon, what did I say?”

Eddie swallows and looks away. “That it wasn’t my fault she left,” he acknowledges. “That just because she was in a different place doesn’t mean it isn’t okay to ask for things that I need from other people. That—that wanting and needing things for myself isn’t a bad thing.”

Dr. Copeland hums and nods. “You don’t have to tell Buck how you feel,” she says. “You can keep it to yourself forever if you want. But whatever decision you make, I want it to be because it’s genuinely what you think is best, not because you’re projecting the insecurities you have left over from your previous relationships onto him. Because Buck is a very different person from Shannon. And you’re a very different person than you were even six months ago, let alone two, three, five years ago.”

She checks her watch. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today, but we can pick up here next session if you’d like.”

Eddie blows out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dr. Copeland.”

* * *

The problem is that once Eddie admits it, he can’t turn it off. The awareness. The quiet hum of _knowing_ when Buck smiles at him, the spark that makes his knees weak when their shoulders brush or Buck’s hand pauses on his back while passing behind in a way that has nothing to do with his general low-grade state of touch starvation and everything to do with the way he wants to press into those touches so they aren’t so fleeting, wants them all the time, wants to drag Buck into his space and keep him there, surround himself with that feeling of warmth and safety and love. There’s the low buzz of attraction as well because Buck is stunning and Eddie’s subconscious seems to have taken his realization as tacit permission to fixate on that in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before. But that want is secondary to just wanting Buck _with him_.

“That feels like it matters,” Eddie says in his next therapy appointment. “But I’m not sure why.”

“Well, physical and sexual intimacy can add a lot to a relationship,” Dr. Copeland replies. “But it can also be easy to use those as a stopgap to try and make up for things that are missing. Emotional intimacy. Communication. Trust. Honesty. You’ve said before that there were many times with Shannon where it seemed like sex was the only part of your relationship that worked—it _matters_ in your words, that you’re prioritizing everything over the physical with Buck because it means that not only have you put in the work to build a strong foundation in your relationship already, but you’re recognizing, at least on some level, that the foundation is important. You’re growing and learning from your past mistakes.”

“I still haven’t decided to tell him,” Eddie points out. “And he could say no. So that’s a little premature.”

Dr. Copeland shakes her head. “Even if he does, that doesn’t diminish the work you’ve done to figure out what’s important to put in and get out of a relationship. That doesn’t mean you haven’t made amazing progress—the fact that you’re even here, talking about this in therapy means a lot. Your growth is still yours, Eddie, nothing can take away from that,” she says gently. 

She pauses and watches him for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, turning that thought over in his head.

“Let me ask you this,” she adds, breaking the silence. “And I want you to really think about it—don’t just go with your first instinctive reaction. If you told Buck how you felt and he turned you down, do you think your relationship is strong enough to move past that?”

_Of course not, he’ll leave_ , is the first thought that comes to mind. But then, Eddie figures the therapist knew that would be the case. So he forces himself to take a mental step back and do what she asked—to really think—pushing aside the clamoring insecurities to look at the things they’ve already been through and survived, the promises they’ve made, the way they are, the person Buck is—

“...yes,” he admits finally. 

“And if the two of you gave it a shot and it didn’t work out, do you think you would be able to stay friends?”

“It would depend how things ended. But...probably.”

“So where does the fear come from?” She asks.

_The fact that I’m not good enough_ , Eddie thinks. _The fact that it’s me._

He glances at the clock. 

“I think we’re out of time,” he hedges. 

Dr. Copeland looks down at her watch. Her lips are pressed thin, but she doesn’t look disappointed.

“Good a place as any to start next week,” she replies. And Eddie feels a little like he’s dodged a bullet.

* * *

In the end, it isn’t planned. 

It’s late, once again—just after midnight—and the dark and quiet of the house makes it feel like a liminal space where nothing is quite real. Buck runs a hand through his hair and then rubs his eyes, making a face at the numbers blinking up from his phone.

“Suppose I should head out,” he says, and it’s hardly the first time Eddie has seen him sleepy and rumpled and comfortable, but in the moment it’s almost overwhelming how much he wants to keep it, to wake up to that sight in the morning. He can’t help himself when the words trip off his tongue.

“You could stay.” His mouth feels too dry, his throat rough.

“Not that your couch isn’t comfortable, Eddie, but—”

“No, I mean—” Eddie interrupts and Buck goes still, suddenly awake and focused, surprise and a wave of other emotions crossing his face too quickly for Eddie to discern them all.

“What—” Buck clears his throat. “What did you mean?”

His hand is right there on the couch and Eddie reaches out, hesitating briefly before his fingers brush the back of it, trailing up to Buck’s wrist and then back, lightly, like he’s not sure he’s allowed.

“Stay...with me,” he clarifies, and Buck makes a small sound of disbelief, his eyes scanning over Eddie’s face, searching and a little wild, before he lurches forward and kisses him.

The fantasy doesn’t do the reality justice.

It’s far from perfect, the angle disastrous until they adjust, and Eddie seems to have forgotten everything he knows about what to do with his hands, but his lungs are on fire, and he’s hot, shivering, aching with pure relief.

“That’s what you meant, right?” Buck pulls back just enough to ask.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“Thank god,” Buck replies, and kisses him again.

They tumble into bed a few minutes later, but they’re both rundown enough that they don’t manage to do more than trade lazy kisses until they nod off, thoroughly twined together.

Eddie wakes up in the morning before his alarm to fingers tracing patterns across his back and shoulder blades. And he’s warm and he wants and—oh. He can have, can’t he?

“You’re still here,” he rasps, voice rough with sleep.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” Buck asks quietly.

“I’m not very good at this,” Eddie admits. “Been working on it. In therapy.”

Buck ducks his head and sets his mouth to Eddie’s pulse point. “So have I,” he replies. “But I think we can be? Good at it? Together, at least.”

“I’m in love with you.” It’s barely a whisper, but Buck’s answering smile is a benediction. “Might be too early to say that. But it doesn’t really seem right that Dr. Copeland knows and you don’t. So...yeah. I love you.”

“I’ve loved you for so long I can’t remember what _not_ loving you feels like,” Buck says.

Eddie exhales shakily. “I might still fuck this up.”

“Me too.” Buck tips his head and watches him carefully. “Does that mean you don’t want to do this yet? Because I can wait until you’re ready. I don’t—I’m pretty sure this is it for me, so...I can wait.”

Eddie looks down at the sheets and slowly, deliberately threads his fingers through Buck’s.

“It means...I might mess up. But...I want you to stay. I want you. This. Us.”

Buck kisses him then, deep and consuming, rolling over so he can press Eddie down into the mattress, the weight comforting, grounding.

“You have me,” Buck replies. “For as long as you want me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It’s not a fairytale or a rom-com. Eddie knows that happily-ever-afters don’t just happen, that they take work, that the confession or grand gesture is the beginning of the story, not the end. But for the first time, as he arches up and kisses Buck again, that thought isn’t so terrifying.

The kiss tastes like hope.


End file.
